


sentiment

by swancharmings



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings
Summary: Harvey is a horrible gift-giver. But maybe he’s not.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> This made me happy to write. I hope it makes you happy to read. ❤️
> 
> Dedicated to Karina.
> 
> (As always, thank you to Heather and Alyssa for the beta)

It’s been roughly three months on Harvey’s desk when Donna arrives to find a badly-wrapped pile of newspapers resting on her keyboard.

“I got you something,” Harvey says, hands in his pockets as he leans against the door jamb.

Donna raises her eyebrows skeptically, points to the crumpled heap. “Is that what this is?”

He has the good grace to wince. “I’m not the best gift wrapper.”

Turns out he’s not the best gift  _giver_ , either. Donna tears open the paper and — she doesn’t know what to say. 

And not in the good way.

The mugs are hideous. A set of four, white ceramic, with two ugly-looking fish around the circumference.

Deep blue like a bruise and blood red. Horrible colors. Dark, depressing.

Where did he  _ get _ these?

Harvey clears his throat, apprehension evident in his leer. “So? What do you think?”

And it’s obvious, glaringly obvious that he _tried_ , so as much as she wants to tease, she finds she can’t be cruel. 

“They’re...they’re great, Harvey, thank you,” she replies, setting them aside and turning to face him with what she hopes is a look of sincerity.

His face falls. “You don’t like them.”

“What? No!”

“Donna, you don’t have to lie. You’re not the only one who can read people,” Harvey grouses, reaching for the mugs, but Donna stops him with a hand on his chest before he can get past her.

“Harvey,” she says plainly. “Thank you. Seriously. This is...really sweet.”

He eyes her warily. “But?”

“ _But_ ... maybe I’ll drop a hint on my birthday,” she smirks.

Harvey shakes his head. “You know what, Donna, it’s fine. In fact, here’s my card —“ he throws one down on her desk, masking his hurt with indifference, “—buy whatever you want.”

Donna gapes. “Harvey —“

“Really, it’s fine.” He throws her a winning smile. “Saves me the trouble of shopping for hours.”

Donna sighs, accepting his peace offering. “Okay, Harvey, but I should warn you — I’m not a cheap date.”

“Then it’s a good thing that card has no limit,” he lilts, sliding it across her desk before retreating back to his office.

“I warned you,” she shouts, smiling to herself.

She keeps the mugs.

————

They’re the first things she unpacks when she settles into her new cubicle at Pearson Hardman.

Harvey, of course, doesn’t notice — or if he does, they’re blatantly ignored. She wonders why he hasn’t questioned it. Is he really that dense?

Donna doesn’t bring them to work after that. It’s strange, but she doesn’t  _ want  _ him to see, doesn’t want him to know that she kept them. Doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

(Doesn’t want him to know that she cares.)

———

She never shares them with company.

They sit on her shelf, untouched, tucked away.

It’s never a problem, until it is.

Mitchell spent the night and Donna is happy. Things are going well. She stretches languorously in bed as he fixes them coffee.

He emerges from the kitchen with a fish mug in each hand.

Donna sits up abruptly. The sheet falls down and she can’t bring herself to care.

“Where did you find those?”

Mitchell snorts, lifting one to eye-level, inspecting it. “The back of your cupboard. I can see why you hide these. But they’re kinda cute.”

Her frown deepens as her annoyance sparks. “You pushed everything aside? I had clean mugs.”

Now it’s Mitchell’s smile that fades. “Donna, what’s the big deal?”

That snaps her out of it. She shakes her head. “Nothing. They...they were a gift, that’s all.”

“From Harvey.” Mitchell laughs humorlessly.

“Yes, from Harvey,” she reiterates, on the defensive.

“So, what, we can’t use any of his stuff in our apartment?”

Donna bristles. “ _Our?_ ”

“Yeah, well... I thought that since we spent most of our time together, here...” he balks, suddenly thrown.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Donna snaps, clutching the sheet around her frame and stalking towards the bathroom. “I think you should go.”

“Donna —“

“Leave the mugs. I’ll wash them,” she continues, and if there’s a possessive bite to her tone she purposefully ignores it.

Mitchell slams them down angrily on her nightstand and she jumps. “You know what, fine. Bring them in to Harvey, since I’m sure that’s what you want anyway.”

He leaves, and that night she tells him they’re done.

She’s more upset about the chip on the bottom of her mug than she is about her breakup.

———

There’s only been one time when she’s ever thought of throwing them out.

She hates that it feels like moving on completely. She hates that it feels like a betrayal. She hates, hates, hates that she still cares.

Donna cradles the mug in her palm and thinks back to the DA’s office, when everything was simpler, when it seemed like there was a chance for them.

She stares at the fish, right in its stupid ugly eye and hates what it stands for.

———

But she keeps them, and they’re okay.

She makes herself tea after the wedding and as her lips close along the rim, she imagines what it would be like if she had leaned forward just a fraction and brushed his lips with hers.

———

Donna still doesn’t share them with anyone.

They remain stashed in the very back of her cupboard, behind her basic no-nonsense mugs.

But she hasn’t had time to run the dishwasher — there have been more pressing matters, she thinks in the shower, thumbing the mark on her collarbone and smiling to herself — and when she steps into the kitchen she is greeted with Harvey’s signature grin and the fish mugs proudly on display.

And she blushes.

“You kept them,” Harvey says, sounding dopey and smug all at once.

There are a thousand and one quips on her tongue —  _ the store wouldn’t take them back  _ or  _ we all need a reminder that the great Harvey Specter isn’t perfect _ or  _ oh, are those still there? _

She doesn’t say any of that.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders and she pulls him down for a kiss.

“They’re the best gift I ever got,” she whispers against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> And if you are able, please consider signing petitions seeking justice for those affected by systemic racism and donating to freedom funds, victims’ families, etc. Here is a resource with reputable links and multiple ways to stand up for and stand with the black community: https://blacklivesmatters(.)carrd(.)co  
> And most importantly, use your voice. Even the smallest voice can help influence change.


End file.
